


The Dignitary and the Handmaiden

by Rexila



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rexila/pseuds/Rexila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a distastefully spontaneous raid on the felt mansion, as far as Diamonds Droog was concerned, but he was going to make the best of it. He had fallen into a rhythm of shooting a lock, kicking in the door, and filling the room with bullets, when one door did not give. He expected to find something expensive, yet not valuable enough to be in a metal vault. Something to either steal or destroy. In a way, he wasn’t wrong.</p><p>He just didn’t expect it in the form of a young girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dignitary and the Handmaiden

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this prompt](http://homesmut.livejournal.com/9406.html?thread=13798590) on the kinkmeme! Still gen, and still some time until I get to the goods from the prompt, sorry.
> 
> **EDIT: Whoops haven't touched this in forever, and it'll probably be a bit before I get back to it, sorry!

It was a distastefully spontaneous raid on the felt mansion, as far as Diamonds Droog was concerned, however, Slick had ordered it, Deuce and Boxcars were enthusiastic over it, and like hell he was going to wait in the car while they got to have all the fun.

Deuce had diverted attention with a molotov cocktail, and once they had entered the mansion they split up to do more damage. Destroying clocks was the highest priority according to Slick (after, of course, knocking off Felt members), and Droog interpreted the order as extending to general vandalism. He was typically above that sort of amateur behaviour, but what the hell, tonight had been rocky and whether it was porcelain, wood, plaster, or bone, it always felt good to have something crumble under his cuestick. If he was lucky, he might even get the drop on a wandering Felt.

He had fallen into a rhythm of shooting the lock, kicking in the door, and filling a room with bullets, when one door did not give, and the sound the door made against his foot was short and solid.

Curious, he touched the door. It moved slightly, but was clearly held by several other locks. Going by the faint rattling of metal, some of them were chains, and others were padlocks. With that many locks, he couldn’t be bothered to break all of them.

He shot out the hinges and drove his shoulder into the door. The heavy door gave only a little, but its own weight pulled it out of the latch and strained screws that weren’t meant to support it that way. It fell out of place on an odd angle and still blocked part of the doorway. Droog was fine with that; it gave him something like a shield in case someone hostile was waiting within.

That had been the worst case scenario in his mind. In truth, he expected something expensive yet not valuable enough to be in a metal vault. Something to either steal or destroy. In a way, he wasn’t wrong.

He just didn’t expect it in the form of a young girl.

She stared at him, not in fear and hardly in surprise. An expression of satisfaction settled across her face, and there was now acceptance in her eyes. She relaxed, standing straight and still before Droog.

“Kill me.”

Droog didn’t expect those words, but they didn’t surprise him either. Calmly and quickly, he assessed her and the room.

Her eyes were yellow, her irises grey. She wore red eyeshadow and lipstick. Her hair was black, and pulled back in a bun, held by a white elastic. Her skin was grey, and her horns were orange, and curled vaguely backwards.

Her dress, and the room she was locked in, were a few shades of horrible neon green, like the rest of the mansion. The dress itself seemed eastern in inspiration, short sleeved, with a faint, floral design embroidered through it. Slightly darker green stockings, and slippers that were the same colour as her shirt.

If he had a sense of humour, he could certainly joke about wishing for death in such a getup. Any fool could hear the seriousness of her request, though.

He toyed with the card in his hand. He had never seen anyone or anything like her in this town. She clearly did not wish to be here. The room was devoid of anything sharp or rope-like. The girl had not moved since she spoke.

Diamonds Droog knew he had a reputation for being a cold, violent killer. He knew because he had worked quite hard for it. He had carelessly riddled men and women with bullets, caved in skulls with his cuestick, and cut people with a finesse Slick didn’t have the patience for.

He still had standards.

He slid the card up his sleeve and retrieved his deck of cards. The girl turned slightly to look at the brawlsoleum, faintly curious.

“Get in,” Droog said.

The girl instantly returned her gaze to him, glaring.

“No.”

Droog stepped around the door. The girl’s face twisted into a scowl.

“No! You have to kill me!”

“I don’t really care what you want,” he said.

The girl took a step back and clenched her fists.

Droog nodded to the brawlsoleum.

“Last warning. Get in.”

The girl bared her teeth and growled.

“What, are you incapable of killing a _little girl?!”_

Despite her confrontational tone, she still backed away from Droog’s approach.

“What kind of murderer is _afraid_ to harm a child?!”

She punctuated her accusation by spitting at his feet.

He had standards, but he also had limits.

Droog frowned and narrowed his eyes, and looked from his shoe, to the girl. Pleasantries over with, he quickly moved forward and grabbed the girl by the shoulder. For a moment, she grinned, but when he shoved her towards the open door of the brawlsoleum, her eyes went wide.

“No!” she howled, “No! I will not go with you! No!”

She dug her heels into the carpet and swung her arms wildly, but it did not stop Droog from nearly tossing her into the brawlsoleum.

Deuce had asked him once how they could carry someone in a deck of cards. At the time, his answer was to distract Deuce with something else, because the only other option was to admit he did not know. It was easier to keep it that way.

To prevent any problems, Droog removed all of the cards that doubled as guns, and put them in his pockets. It was tricky in the weird way their weaponized cards worked, but achievable.

Once ready, he slipped out of the room again. New mission: leave the mansion.

He drew and assembled the radio.

“Slick, I hit the jackpot and I’m cashing out.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means if I don’t see you at the mansion, I’ll see you back at the base.”

“You fucking pansy, get back here!”

“Trust me, boss, I got something big. You’ll hear about it later.”   
“Fuck you!”

With the report called in, Droog moved through the mansion with more stealth than he had used earlier. Considering how much of a mess he had been making out of the place, that wasn’t a particularly difficult achievement. The rest of the Crew tearing up the mansion was enough of a distraction to keep the Felt occupied as well, and with Droog no longer broadcasting his location and activities he was essentially free to walk out at a leisurely pace.

He considered taking the getaway car, since his plan was to release the girl as soon as possible and get back into the fray, however, he had a feeling that she would continue to be difficult. Best not to risk wasting time, which was in short enough supply around the Felt normally.

Several blocks away seemed far enough to let the girl go. Between her headstart and the distraction and destruction the Crew were providing, she would have enough time go get away, Droog calculated.

He dropped the brawlsoleum again. Despite her reluctance entering it, the girl didn’t seem to want to leave now. Difficult, as he had predicted.

“Get out,” he said, like ignorance was what prevented her from exiting.

“You will have to make me,” the girl said from the back of the deck.

Droog wasn’t surprised.

“You know I am willing to do that,” he said.

The girl did not say anything.

“We are out of the mansion, if you couldn’t tell.”

The girl was still silent.

“We are quite some distance from it. The street is completely empty. There’ll be no witnesses.”

“So you will kill me _now?”_ the girl huffed.

Droog sighed and carefully felt through his pockets for a smoke.

“Just get out.”

At last, the girl stuck her head out of the front of the brawlsoleum. She was still glaring, and had not lost any of her intensity during the trip.

“I will not serve you.”

Her voice was low, clear, and full of spite. Droog found his cigarette case and calmly took a cigarette from it. The girl continued as he lit up.

“I will not serve you, any more than I will Scratch or his master. I would rather die than spend another day in another’s service.”

Droog took a long draw from his cigarette, savoured the smoke, and exhaled slowly. Once done, he opened his eyes and looked down at the girl.

“Do I look like the sort of man who wants someone to serve him?”

The girl continued to stare at him. He continued to smoke.

Slowly, cautiously, she took a step out of the brawlsoleum. And then another. She stood in front of its entrance, now, and with her clear, Droog collected the deck and began to slip his cards back into it.

When he was done, he glanced at the girl, who had stood there and watched him the entire time. She was no longer glaring, at least, but her expression was blank. Not the empty kind of blank that Deuce wore, but something oddly familiar. Observation, primarily, and maybe calculating.

Droog raised his eyebrow.

“You’re still here.”

“I do not know where I am.”

“You’re outside of the mansion. Does it matter?”

She frowned.

“I suppose it does not. They will find me soon.”

Droog snubbed the end of the cigarette in his pocket ashtray, but was still focusing on the girl.

“If that’s the attitude you want to take with your freedom.”

The girl laughed, short and hollow.

“What freedom? Do you think this is the first time I have attempted escape?”

Hm. That was a fair point.

“This is the first time you had assistance. What’s the furthest you’ve gone alone?”

The girl thought about it for a moment.

“True, but distance may be moot when your captors are able to manipulate time to their will and needs.”

Also true. Droog shrugged.

“Like it or not you’re here now. What you do next is none of my business.”

He started to walk away, back for the mansion.

“Wait!”

It was slight, but it was there: a hint of desperation in her voice. Curious. Droog looked over his shoulder.

“If you are leaving me here... And if you do not care for my well being, why did you release me?”

“To inconvenience the Felt.”

Faintly, she looked skeptical.

“Killing me would have been more effective.”

Droog turned around.

“I don’t do kids.”

“Why not?”

Why not? It was unprofessional. It was unnecessary. It was unfair. It was too easy.

“It’s not my style.”

“I see. Your style is not to do the deed yourself, but to leave them to the mercies of the streets at midnight.”

Droog stopped walking. He shut his eyes, in part because he had let the girl see her words affect him, but also because she had a point, once again.

“You look like a smart kid, I bet you could find shelter.”

He didn’t believe it, and she could tell.

“Where? Do you know of any houses willing to accept children with no question? Not that it would matter if they were not guarded against agents of time and space, but it would be nice to have somewhere to wait.”

Droog exhaled slowly, and turned to the girl.

“Fine. Come with me.”

It was very slight, very faint, but the corner of the girl’s lip curved upwards.

**Author's Note:**

> so uh, as you can tell from going through the link I have part two done but when I reread it while sorting this out, I realized I could/should probably tweak a few lines, so I'm going to do that later.


End file.
